Kowtowing
by Stonecreek
Summary: Even a steadfastly Dark family like the Blacks have trepidation when the Dark Lord is going to be a guest in your home. This is exacerbated by the fact that it's time for their daughters to make their Lord's acquaintance for the first time. A speculative little scene of how Narcissa and Bellatrix could have met Voldemort, in the guise of a parlor-room pureblood fantasy of manners.


**A.N. –** This is me taking a slight break from my Naruto fic to finish off this scene-fic I've had sitting around since the winter. No worries; your somewhat-regularly scheduled Team 7 escapades will be back tomorrow. For now, I indulge my biggest fandom love.

This small fic was all about the lyric snippet below not leaving me alone. I couldn't help but imagine little Bella and Cissy Black being ushered in to see Lord Voldemort for the first time. Some research for timeline purposes led me to set this right after Tom had killed Hepzibah Smith. So, Bella is 10 and Cissy is 5, and Tom has already made multiple horcruxes and is beginning to be known as his alter ego. The only break from canon I (consciously) made was the inference that Lucius and Narcissa will have met before Hogwarts.

 **Kowtowing**

" _Greeting the monster in our Easter dresses,  
Father says bow your head."_

"Icicle," Tori Amos

August 27, 1961

The tension in the first-floor drawing room was palpable as the crack of apparition was heard down in the entry hall. Cygnus and Druella Black contained shivers of fear; they knew their visitor could silently apparate and would only allow the crack if he had use of it. Of the two children standing at attention besides their parents, just one was blissfully unaware of the menace making its way up the stairs to meet them. The other was secretly nervous but deeply anxious to finally see the wizard that was spoken of in 12 Grimmauld Place only in reverently hushed tones.

Narcissa Black and her sister Bellatrix could not be more different. Bella, at 10 five years Cissy's elder, wore her dark hair like a badge to honor her family name and all it stood for. Cissy was as carefree as her age suggested, her ethereally light hair as shining as her smile. The third sister, Andromeda, was absent, and by design. She did not measure up to the pedigree her parents had instilled in their daughters, and her presence would only sully the favor the Blacks had been currying with their guest.

The heavy wooden door groaned inward and admitted the family's house elf. In its squeaky voice, it announced the guest, bowed, and quickly left. Stood in the doorway to replace the quaking, wretched figure of the servant was most definitely a master. Imposingly tall, his dark eyes drank in the finely appointed room and family arrayed to greet him. Whereas he radiated power simply by being, the others oozed servility in both countenance and deference. Then the lord of the house opened his mouth to the Lord of the realm, and the subservience showed through.

"My Lord, welcome to our home. We are not worthy of the auspices your presence connotates."

The Lord did not deign the groveling with a response, instead stalking over to the lushly appointed leather chair next to the fireplace (and facing the door and biggest window in the room) and sitting down in the seat of power. Cygnus lined his daughters up on the expensive, imported rug in front of the divan his wife perched upon. Like a hunting predator, the Lord never let his eyes stray from the weakest of the quarry. At the briefest of inclines from her father's head, the youngest stepped forth.

Narcissa was resplendent in a dress fully twice as wide as her lithe frame. Frilled and full, the concoction still did little to hide the tremble that overtook the girl's form as she was squared up in their guest's haunting eyes. She did not look away, though; she knew enough to know that that act would not be taken kindly. Insubordination, her father would call it. Privately, she thought that Bella would call it all in a day's work. But then, Bellatrix always got away with what she herself could not, being the first-born.

She was still waiting a word, a prompt, a bundle of nerves on a rug that very well could be worth more than her life, given the Lord's vagaries. Cygnus outwardly maintained a stoic façade; inside, he wondered if his daughter would soon be wrested from his home. Druella was wishing her choice of seating had a back so she could present a solid impression; as is, she was trying not to hunch forward in anticipation.

The Lord, after five minutes of sizing up the youngest Black, merely waved his hand dismissively and locked eyes with the head of the family. Cygnus reeled back as if struck, then played it off into a hasty kneel. One did not just recover at the drop of a hat from the most powerful legilimens conveying an order through driving it into your brain. As Narcissa scrambled to her mother's side and fell gracelessly upon the cushions, Cygnus regained his breath.

"My Lord, you are too kind. Surely having the Malfoys brought into the fold will lead to further strengthening not only the cause, but my family and thus your power. We are grateful."

Druella, for one brief, unguarded second, certainly did not look grateful that her youngest daughter apparently had her hand promised to a boy she'd never met. But she was not a stupid woman; Druella saw the potential in such a union, and her concerns would have to be tossed aside lest she was. She was not stupid in the least, but she also was not powerful – in the magical or societal spheres. She'd brought nothing but looks and family fortune to bear for the cause, and valued her standing as a means to raise a family that she could legitimately be proud of.

Cygnus had taken his eldest daughter by the shoulder and guided her to the spot her sister had vacated. Bellatrix tried not to view this event like a high-end auction, with her as the showpiece item saved for last. Her garb reinforced that view, all expensive silks and heirloom baubles pulled out of the family vault for just this moment. However, if she was viewed with that much worth by someone who obviously radiated power and respect, then Bella supposed she could live with that. Their espoused ideologies meshed, and Bella always did like to stir up trouble. She was sure there would be plenty of opportunities were she to but make the right first impression here.

Whereas with Narcissa, the Lord just observed and did not interfere, with Bellatrix, he made inquiries. Slipping like a snake into the girl's mind proved child's play, no matter the basic Occlumency instruction her parents had given her. Within her thoughts, he saw her petulant attitude, her desire to make something more of herself, and most of all, her absolute conviction that there was no wrong she would not commit in order to stamp her name down for the ages. The little chit, the Lord could have broken like an outdated tea set. The budding Black before him was worthy of the name, and being less than a year away from entering Hogwarts, he wanted to cultivate that for his use.

Unlike her sister, Bella did not quail at the intrusion into her psyche. She willingly let her thoughts run dark, channeling the paths she knew he'd want to see. Her mind was already a fraught place; the touch of a Dark Lord would only accelerate the process. Distantly, she was aware of her mother's white-knuckle grip on the arm of her sister, and Cissy's vain attempt to not let it show it hurt. Her father was unflappable as ever, even as his firstborn was pillaged. Bella bore it all. Her reward was seeing the Lord quirk an eyebrow at her, before speaking for the first time that evening.

"Yes, she will do _quite_ nicely. Keep grooming her well. There will come a day when she rises to take her rightful place, and I intend to be there to see the fruition. Until then…"

The Lord disapparated with nothing more than a flutter of the heavy curtains. Bellatrix stood, transfixed at the empty space the man had occupied. Slowly, a smile blossomed across her face, and she gave in to the maniacal, euphoric giggles that only the power-drunk could manage. Her mother scowled openly now, and Narcissa was rubbing the hand-shaped bruise across her forearm.

Bonelessly, Cygnus slid down into the chair that held no trace of body heat from its recent resident. He dropped his head into his hands, whispering an invocation he hadn't truly believed until that moment.

"Anything for you, Lord Voldemort."

 **A.N. 2 –** When doing a piece on the Blacks, I wanted this dark. I'm not sure I went far enough. Here's this pureblood family, in league with a monster and now fully aware of how far his predations stretch. I purposely did not have the name Voldemort mentioned until he'd left; even at this early stage, the name has power. This story is finished as written, though I might revisit it at some point to polish it up some.

Also, with this posted, I am now two stories away from having a story titled for each letter of the alphabet. Just missing C and X now.


End file.
